


Long way home

by yet_another_cloud



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_another_cloud/pseuds/yet_another_cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a long distance from Moscow - to Havana - to New York. And there's a long way from the first kiss to "I'm in love with you".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long way home

**Author's Note:**

> I was always amused about how fast Maggie/Jim relationship develops at the end of the show, which makes me wonder about what steps they passed in these three days. Here is a little glance of it, all fluffy and romantic. 
> 
> All characters belongs to Aaron Sorkin, all mistakes are only mine.

“Sit down and fasten the belt!” she orders, and Jim obeys with a bad feeling in his stomach. Privately, he has absolutely no idea of what Maggie’s inclined to, though he knows for sure it’ll be not an easy conversation. At least, it’s something – and maybe something better than yet another round of avoiding each other, pretending nothing happened and –  
And yes, masking that bloody damned pain he’d never wishes anyone to go through twice. 

He wonders what she’s going to say; and then Maggie reaches out and kisses him, and there's no need in words at all. 

 

The world stops soundless around them as they smile slightly, silently. Jim leans and kisses her in return. Then once again. And again. 

“Does it really happen to us?” Maggie smiles. - “Finally?”

“Took you a long time,” he whispers gently.

“You too.”

“Kind of fools we were, right?”

Jim definitely cannot stop himself from staring at that all-new Maggie, all of a sudden so dearest and closest, as well as he cannot stop himself from pressing more gentle kisses to her lips, as if proving himself he doesn’t dream it all. 

 

They notice gazes from around simultaneously. 

“It seems like we’re entertaining the public,” he murmurs; they smile shyly to each other and the magic of the moment melts away. 

“What are you watching to? You know, I like Star Trek too,” Maggie leans to him, and he offers her an earpiece and brings his tablet closer.

“I know. You’ve called me Tiberius by middle name once, don’t you remember?” he chuckles.

They sit looking at the screen although no one really pays attention to the space adventure. Their hands cross against the tablet, and Maggie’s face tips so close that their breath mix. Jim feels the warmth of her shoulder, a gentle brush of her hair on his cheek, and doesn’t dare to move. _Like two dummy teenagers on the first date_ , Maggie thinks, filled with tenderness from his finger slightly caressing her knuckles. 

It occurs they have million things to speak about until their voices got hoarse. Flight attendants serve the lunch, and Jim offers his chocolate bar to her, speaking about Pruitt’s last demarche, and that little gesture suddenly melts Maggie’s heart into a hundred rills of caramel. 

 

Most of their neighbors have fallen asleep yet, it got colder in the cabin, and Maggie cuddles in her chair covering herself with a blanket. Jim puts his arm around her side. Maggie gives him a sly glance as her hand finds its way under the blanket, sliding to his chest, - down to his waist, - then down a bit more. His reaction is so obvious under thin fabric that they both freeze for a moment, Maggie halts with amusing smile, but Jim squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Stop, Maggie. Please.”

Little imps dance in Maggie’s eyes. She pulls the blanket higher. 

“We can try a – “, but as Jim regains the ability to talk and move, he shakes his head firmly. - “No.”

He leans a bit closer and breathes into her ear, - “I don’t want our first time to be like that. Let’s wait until landing.”

Maggie gives him a long astute look. – “Agreed.” She curls in the chair, yawning, resting against his shoulder.

“Now get some sleep. You’ll need your energy later.”

“Sounds like a promise. Or a warning,” she teases.

“It is”.

 

“Eight hours stopover in Mexico, then four hours stop switching planes in Cancun, departure in three hours. Or you can have one switch in Montreal, with nine hours stopover, the flight departures at 6 AM tomorrow morning.”

They start speaking at the same time, and both stop embarrassed. Jim clears his throat. – “Two tickets through Montreal, please.”

“Here you are. Enjoy your stay at Havana. You can book a hotel at the accommodation desk on the top floor”, and they silently move in that direction.

Not even being in touch or in sight of each other, his sensation of her beside him now grows so intense that he barely can steady his breath. The air around becomes dense and prickles in his lungs. As they step onto the escalator, she reaches out and takes hold of his hand, and he feels her fingers are trembling lightly just the same way as his own. He picks his phone out of the pocket and switches it off. Looking at him intently, Maggie does the same, and Jim’s heart gives a lurch. 

Jim books a double suit in the airport hotel, and no one says a word on the matter. He is now tense with hardening himself, bewaring of a little touch or even look at Maggie. But when they step into the hotel’s elevator, his eager breaks out finally, as he leans and kisses her neck, and cheek, and temple, and lips. 

They barely forget Maggie’s bag in the elevator, and can hardly cope with the key at the door. The last thing Jim is aware of is to slap the door behind them with the wave of his only free hand. 

…Never in his whole life had Jim thought about himself as a macho. In fact, he always considers his moderate temperament not to be among his strengths. Yet he does it right now, still not quite believing himself – he thrusts the girl pinned against the wall, just at the entry way of their cozy hotel room. They rush too much to strip, as they grope each other, and drink each other’s lips, and dive into a crazy rhythm of deep and sharp plunges. But what simply boils Jim’s blood are Maggie’s eyes, now dark with widened pupils, never going to shut, but staring at him like they're giving a last gaze all the way through – until she finally shivers and shakes in his arms, gasping his name into his neck, making him all burst and explode. 

They breathe heavily, looking to each other. Jim pulls her down, and Maggie laughs shortly – “There’s got to be a bed somewhere here, just for our convenience”. 

“Definitely,” he chuckles too.

“And a bathroom. I call dibs on it!” 

“Ladies first,” Jim agrees, reaching the phone to call a room service. 

 

Jim leaves the bathroom wiping his hair with a towel and joins Maggie at the small table with some eerily appetizing dishes. It's not until now he realizes he’s starved to death. 

“It’s amazing. I’m fond of Mexican food!”- Maggie says with her mouth full.

“Cuban. You know, we’re in Havana, the capital of the Republic of Cuba.”

“You’re a snoot, Jim Harper. Terrible boring impossible snoot, “ – Maggie’s next proposition is drown by a kiss, as Jim grasps her in his arms and carries to the bedroom. And, yes, they definitely have a bed there. 

 

…This time is to explore. Kissing the softest skin on her inner elbows, fondling the perfect cones of her neat breasts, caressing down to her belly and thighs, learning by heart their unthinkable curves, discovering her tenderest secret spots, Jim makes a map of little giggles and sighs, and gasps, and moans, and quivers and trembling pleas. That's the way of slowly boiling tender, and at the end of that incredible journey Maggie takes the control; heated and hinted by his hitched breath, she drives him to the living fire, which burns his self-control apart while he tries to bite back groans and gasps and rambling words. 

 

They lye calm and mild, and Maggie is teetering on the brink of sleep, when Jim’s anxious voice brings her back in a moment.

“Maggie. Maggie?”

“Why?”

“Are you on the pills?”

Maggie laughs at his terrified and guilty face.

“It’s a bit late for that kind of question, don’t you think?”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I should’ve... I mean… shit… I don’t –” 

“Look, it’s okay. I _am_ on the pills, so there’s nothing to worry about. It’s fine.”

“Thanks God, “ he sighs with relief. ”I’m deadly sorry for this, Maggie, I fucked up - ”

“Look, Jim, I know you’re a good guy,“ she covers his hand with hers. - ”You’re so fucking responsible it’s written on your face with all capslock. Let’s treat it as an accident fail. Wonder if I should take it as a compliment of sort,” she giggles. 

“Surely you should,” he kisses her hand looking grateful and shyly. “Sleep well. I need to buy some clothes before shops got closed. I’ll take the key with me.”

 

It isn’t until he gets out when he remembers his phone’s still switched off. _Shit. Three missed calls. And it’s Mac. Shit._

“Hey, Jim! Where are you? I couldn’t reach you both for ages! Tess told me you’ve got stuck in Moscow.”

“Hey Mac. Actually no, we barter the tickets from some Russian Bonnie and Clyde, but, you know, Snowden was not on the flight. They didn’t let him out.”

“I know, Jim. Wonder if I have to get informed from the newsline, having two of my young and promising producers on the spot.”

“I’m sorry, Mac. It wouldn’t happen again.”

“What’s going on, Jim? Why doesn’t Maggie take up?”

He hesitates with an answer. “She’s in the hotel, might have fallen asleep, I guess.”

“What? Are you both got drunk?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you have a fight?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then what?”

He sighs. “Nothing. I mean nothing wrong. We… – Do you remember what you’ve said once?”

“About what?” 

A pause with another sigh. “I’m gathering my rosebuds, Mac,” – it feels kind of zero gravity, talking to anybody about it. Even to Mac.

“What?” – Mac’s voice warms up instantly. – “Oh, that’s great, Jim! It's worth a journey.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, take your time. When do you arrive?”

“Tomorrow night.” 

“Okay. Good luck for you guys. – And - Jim? Wasn’t I right? On the first day?”

“Yes, you were. Two hundred percent. As always.”

 

The trip seems to have no end at all. Last flight from Montreal they slept away in whole, a flight attendant wakes them up at the approach to JFK. It’s late evening in New York, through, caught in jetlag, they seem to have wrong feeling, if ever, of what time is it now.

“Come to me tonight.” Maggie hesitates before answer, and Jim instantly draws back. “Oh, maybe it’s not a good idea, I see. You’re tired, you need rest, and a bathtub of bubbles, and all these things you girls do preening your feathers - ”

“It’s not about you, Jim - ”

“Okay, it’s fine. Don’t mind. Forget it.”

“Hey, I don’t want to forget it! Just to delay it a little.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s see.”

 

Going out on the way to baggage claim Jim checks the phone and sees a new message from Mac. Surprising for it’s not a voicemail he opens it and halts. _“Charlie Skinner died of a heart attack at Presbyterian at 5 PM today. My condolence to all.”_

“Jim! Charlie… oh God…” Maggie obviously has read the same. She looks shocked, knocked out, like something sucked all the air from her. Her lips curve and Jim rushes to give her a hug. 

She weeps openly; Jim feels his shirt becomes wet from her face. Running his hand upon her shuddering shoulders, Jim himself tries to blink back two uninvited tears. z _It’s like being with Maggie somehow makes him softer_ ; the worried thought blinks in the side corner of his mind.

Charlie… Jesus, he seemed to be immune to all the misfortunes, staying indestructible in the eye of any and every life hurricane, let alone illness or age. He was their common elevated foul-mouthed magic talisman. Now they all kind of left orphans. 

“I should call Mac,” – a moment fleets, and Jim’s weakness passes away. He’s hurt by the thought he wasn’t with Mac to support her at that bitterest moment when she obviously needed a friend’s shoulder and had neither Will not even him around her. 

“Mac? I’ve just read… I’m sorry for Charlie… How did it happen?”

“Hey Jim. I’m sorry too,” Mac’s voice is harsh and broken, dropping every word with an effort. – “He fell down in the middle of newsroom. Hits his head with a desk edge. We called ER and they moved him there, but he died an hour later.”

“How are you? Don’t you mind if I come?”

“You don’t need to. I’m fine. I’m with Will. They had released him tonight. “

“Really? Thanks God! Give him a hug from Maggie and me!”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.” 

 

He pust Maggie in a taxi saying goodnight to her and turns yet to go away, when he hears she calls him out.

“Jim… “ her eyes blink with tears before she looks away. “Would you mind if I go with you tonight? It’s all so - ”

“Of course,” he throws his bag in, says his address to the driver and gets close to her at the back seat.

 

“Stop here for a moment, please,” he asks the driver and turns back to Maggie. – “Do you like Chinese food? Here’s some place open till 2 AM, we could take something away. You might be hungry.” – “That’ll be great. Please choose something; I’ll wait for you here”.

 

Surprisingly there’s no sign of Hallie at Jim’s apartment (Maggie just realized it’d be embarrassing to feel as if she’s taking Hallie’s place. Was it only two days before when she gave Jim advices on rejoining with Hallie? Impossible.)

Maggie couldn’t say if there’s something in the air here that makes her feel that way – as if some taut string inside Maggie’s heart eases at the moment she steps in, as if she feels she could stay here in safe and comfort. She stands looking around. It’s a snug place; lots of books, a guitar, a CD changer with a bunch of disks, and some nice mess that often surrounds busy and keen people. Maggie runs her fingers over the pile of books casually stacked on the desk. _The Photographer’s Eye, Home Recording for Dummies, A Brief History of Neoliberalism, Memoirs of an Infantry Officer_ , and, suddenly, Robert Burns. When does he manage to read all these? 

She examines several photos scattered on the bookshelves. The one from commencement. Two dark-haired boys and a man in front of a tent at the lake shore – there must be Jim’s brother and father with him. Jim-the-teenager laughs to a camera hugging a dog, a cheerful shaggy retriever. 

“Was it yours?” she points to the dog on the photo. 

"Bart? Yeah. He stayed with my parents when I leaved for a college.” 

“You must be missed him.” 

“Yeah. Till now, honestly. He died three years ago.” 

“We have always had beagles. I loved walking with them. So much of joy!” She smiles, remembering.

They finish their impromptu dinner and while Jim is grabbing the boxes and plates from the table, Maggie sneaks to have a look at the bedroom. _Three points of interest_ , Lisa taught her, and Lisa definitely knew what she was talking about; _the bottom drawer of his desk, a medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and a night table drawer, - and you'll know about the guy all you should have known from the beginning_. It’s not as if Maggie is bewared of any Jim’s secrets, but curiosity got the better on her.  
So she takes a look into the drawer. Condoms, of course; several boys’ magazines, very old in looks; a scattering of guitar picks; an interesting pendant on the leather wire – of such a boy scouting look that she decides it’s his mum’s or sister’s old gift; and – 

Maggie halts. It’s herself – the one who smiles to her from the photo at the bottom of the drawer. 

Actually, Jim knew Hallie wouldn’t come back; he knew that from the very moment she went away from ACN terrace, or maybe from the moment he read her Carrie-Bradshaw-style column about “Tim”, or maybe even earlier, when they had their first of an endless series of fights about her new job. 

He knew that, and it hurt, of course, though a half less than he expected. (Two months later he must admit that the only thing that still hurt him a lot was Maggie pushing him endlessly to rejoin with Hallie, and every time Maggie did so, he obediently made one more hopeless attempt, as if for the only reason of punishing Maggie, or Hallie, or himself, for that stupid senseless pain). But, of course, at the beginning he had his portion of sleepless hours full of self-pity as well as self-accusations and regrets. It was that kind of bleeding night when he brought Maggie’s picture back to its place so close to his bed; and since that night he gave it no more looks, neither moved to get it away. 

__

They grab a half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses and go sit on the stairs in front of Jim’s door. 

“I like your place,” Maggie states, staring at the sky. 

_Then move in here_ , he wants to say it so much that hardly catches the words on the tip of his tongue. _What the fuck are you doing, Harper. Why to rush that hard, it will only scare her. And, besides, are you sure for you own? Propose a girl to move in after sleeping with her for three times in a single day? Isn’t it totally crazy even for you?_

“You’re always welcome,” he responses instead. 

“And that’s great, that you can watch the skies and see stars,“ she continues. – “You know, that’s what I missed when moved to New York. We used to spend every night on the terrace in summer. Dad turned on some music, and they talked. As I often drifted off in the chair until they found me not being in bed for so long.” 

“What kind of music were your lullabies?” Jim asks with a smile. 

“They like country. Hank Williams, Roger Miller, all of them. You know,” she sounds so softly now, - “Sometimes when I was alone here and couldn’t fall asleep, I imagined… for true, I imagined _you_ playing _King Of The Road_ for me.” 

Stunned, touched to the core, suddenly Jim finds it hard to say a word. 

“We should definitely try it”, he whispers at last, leaning to kiss her tenderly. 

__

“Look. Think about Charlie. Don’t you think we should refrain ourselves tonight? In the memory of him?” 

“Do you think he would be glad with such kind of memory?” he asks, and they both get smiled. 

“Actually, I suppose he’d prefer us get drunk and go take a bath in Bethesda fountain”. 

They laugh and kiss and go home and make the best litany for an old swinger they could only perform. 

__

_Yes, he does know for sure,_ Jim thinks looking at Maggie’s relaxed softened features. From the moment she stepped in here he didn’t need any additional reasons. It is not a matter of trust, nor is it a guess needed to be proved. It’s rather something about the only right way of being. Drifting off with her hand in his, he feels, perhaps for the first time since he quitted his parents’ house, like being at home. 

__

It's not only the fact that technically he’s running his first show as an EP that makes Jim nervous. The day itself was rather hard, and they had extremely little time to get it done, and it’s so important for him not to spoil that very special broadcast dedicated to Charlie’s memory. 

And besides all these, there’s a constant mosquito squeak of anxiety ringing in the corner of his mind all the way. _What have you done, Harper? Do you really know what have you done?_ With all that mess of promoting Maggie, having her now inclined to move to DC, and saying the things that he said, Jim is definitely unsure. 

He hadn’t have a talk with her after his sudden confession, for they simply have no time, but the more minutes pass by, the more he feels suddenly scared to hear what she have to say in response, or, more likely, to face the fact that there’ll be no response at all. 

The broadcast is done, and when Jim finally gets the newsroom, he finds out Maggie’s gone. A foreboding fills him up to top. Then he reaches his desk and notices there’s a piece of paper stuck on the keyboard, with a note _‘to Jim’_ on it. 

  
_I do love you too._  
_That’s simple. You’ve just been always much braver than me._  
_see you tonight_  
_xxx Maggie._  



End file.
